


First Time

by IntrovertedWife



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Adorable Alistair, Alistair Smut, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Confessional Sex, F/M, Funny, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, POV Alistair, Steamy, Sweet/Hot, Warden Alistair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-22 19:56:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15589554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntrovertedWife/pseuds/IntrovertedWife
Summary: When things get hot and heavy between Alistair and the Warden, he has to confess the truth -- that he's never been with any woman before. I wanted to write Alistair's first time as he stumbles through overcoming his anxieties and fears about forging the moaning statue. It starts as if the Warden never asked Alistair if he was a virgin and he has to confess the fact. The next chapter will be all the explicit fun stuff.If you can spot the needless DC reference, I'll give you a Golden Superman.





	1. The Truth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [Space_aged](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_aged/gifts), [nlans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nlans/gifts), [CloakingHawk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloakingHawk/gifts), [zimafreak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimafreak/gifts).



“So…” Alistair yanked up a fallen branch, quick to watch a pair of gloved hands try to cram something into a succulent pink mouth. Even with her cheeks bulging like a chipmunks she still looked adorable, her sharp eyes tearing up from both strain and surprise as she turned to him.

“You were the one to steal the last of the cake,” he finished with, crossing his arms as if he won a great battle.

“No, no,” she tried to plea for her innocence, but a spray of crumbs betrayed her. Clasping a hand to her mouth, Talia’s big brown eyes rolled up to his and she loudly swallowed. She didn’t lower her hand, but the edges of a smile poked out at both sides, bringing one to Alistair as well.

“I can’t help it,” Talia confessed, fingers digging into her braided hair to try and tug scraps forward. Some she pulled so far ahead they obscured her face, others snagged behind her long ears. Gulping once more, she admitted, “I was so hungry after the last fight, and…”

“And my lovely dinner wasn’t enough?” Alistair scoffed as if she deeply wounded him.

The traveling camp of weirdoes and castoffs straddled around the fire behind them and to the left. Here they were away from the prying eyes but also the smoke to repel all the greedy insects. Talia took up first watch, leaving most of the previously described weirdoes to sit around the fire trying to not catch each other’s eye. Alistair grew bored in ten minutes and stalked off to the bushes to find her, where he discovered an even graver secret — the identity of the cake thief. She made off with damn near forty of them already.

Crumbling more than the sweet treats, Talia hunched over on the rotting log she picked for a bench. Her elbows dug into her leather-clad thighs, fingers tenting together as she whispered, “You’re not…you won’t tell anyone, will you?”

Alistair bent clean over, and then some (she was positively fairy-sized), until his eyes met with her shy ones. With a smile turning radiant upon his lips, he declared, “Never,” and dove forward. Talia met him halfway, her frosting-coated lips melting against his. Heat bounced about inside him like an excited puppy, rising from his gut and bursting bubbles up his spine until it found the brain.

They hadn’t been at this whole kissing and macking stage for very long, a few weeks maybe. It was hard to tell when the only calendar they had access to was dug into the dirt with a stick. The newness left Alistair sitting on pins and needles for the next taste. He’d fidget endlessly, waiting for her to finish speaking with someone, or to pull her into a private corner in order to envelop his arms around her lithe body and tumble into bliss.

Barely satiated, Alistair pulled back, his lumbar region complaining about the reach. It took a moment for Talia’s eyes to open, her glistening lips partially obscured as if she was about to pucker up for another. When she did glance up, a hint of a rosy blush burned over her cheeks. Hard to imagine someone like him could put that there.

“How come,” Talia coughed a moment, “how come I never see you ravenous?”

“Discipline,” Alistair shrugged, collapsing to the log beside her. It threatened to sunder in half from his greater weight, which caused both Grey Wardens to glare at the crack. With that example, Talia crossed her arms. “What? It takes great discipline to stuff as much breads and cheeses in my gullet as I can before someone spots me. Been training my whole life. Up at dawn, performing stretches, then shoveling in every manner of food I can scrounge up from across the entire estate.”

That caused her to laugh. Maker, what that laugh did to him. He’d wear comical pants and paint his face like an Orlesian if it’d get a chuckle from her. Anything to feel that rush of joy exploding through his veins.

“Really?” Talia turned so she could face him. “Because you don’t look fat.” Her finger prodded through the small layer of armor padding, causing Alistair to skitter back. A dangerous light glinted in her eye, and her attack grew in strength.

“I…I happen to…wear it well,” he spat out, trying to dodge her proddings by twisting, but she’d found a fun game. Well, two could play at that.

Lashing out with both hands, Alistair cupped against her waist. Her forest green armor fell flush from his touch, warmer than he’d have expected. For a beat Talia paused, curious to see what he was going to do, when Alistair’s fingers began to turn into curious spiders.

“No…” she squirmed, but she couldn’t escape the dance of his fingertips up and down her sides. “No. No!” The laugh returned instantly, Talia giggling as he tickled her to pieces. “You’re a horrible man!” She gasped, snorting from the laughter as he circled from her trim waist that hid the cake up her ribcage.

In her flailing, her legs starting to rise as if she intended to kick him, another adverse reaction occurred. Alistair kept his hands steady while her chest did not remain so. By twisting to the side, Talia curled a soft cup of flesh into his palm. Sure, there were buckles in the way. Leather. Probably straps and other roguish things. But he was holding it.

A woman’s breast. Her breast.

“Oh Maker,” Alistair moved to yank his hand away, his hair blushing red, when Talia hooked her legs around his waist. He glanced down at the lock in surprise and he was met by her mischievous eyes.

A pink tongue darted out to lap her lips, her voice dipping lower as she said, “Don’t stop.”

“As—” He wanted to find a joke, something to diffuse the situation. Make her laugh, put it all back to the way it was and… Blessed Andraste, no he didn’t. How bloody often did he lay in his tent wondering what that lithe elf that was their only hope in this world felt like? Looked like…without any knickers on? Far too often for him to ever confess it, that much was sure.

And she’s letting you, encouraging you. Stop being an idiot!

Alistair dove for her, his exploring hand remaining where it started while his lips hungered for hers. A spicy heat wafted off her tongue, its wily ways wetting at first his lips then down his chin. Talia drew her teeth together, softly nibbling at the smattering of scruff and causing Alistair’s foot to tap erratically on the ground.

Even with the leather and aforementioned buckles in the way, he felt the stirring of a nub growing more pronounced below his palm. That had to be her… _Blessed Maker_. He may have devoted quite a few hours to wondering what color they were. Size. If he’d ever get a chance to find out.

Talia slipped her palm lower off his shoulder to cup his elbow with the hand lost and alone. Taking control, she guided that forlorn appendage up to her… Right, they came in pairs. The second Alistair’s palm cupped against her breast, his fingers took command. They scooped inward, pressing upon the giving flesh below. It was so much more bouncier than he’d imagined.

Young Alistair presumed they were like pillows, all fluff and air like goose down. But this was— Blighted void, this was endlessly better.

With both hands massaging her breasts, Alistair drew his lips to the side of her beautiful neck. Dark hairs tickled his forehead, the downed ones trying to distract him but nothing could as he suckled upon the thin skin. Talia shuddered in his grip, her eyes closed tight as she moaned elvish.

Lapping up a fold of her skin, Alistair scraped his teeth and nuzzled deeper. A warm hand grabbed his head, pulling it even tighter to her beautiful flesh. So much heat radiated off her smooth as silk skin. She tasted of the forest after a cleansing rain, and apples plucked fresh from the tree. At her swooping jawline, Alistair pressed a delicate kiss right before he began to scale her steepled ear with his tongue.

Talia’s hand dropped from his hair, her fingers ceasing their sudden brushing. He was about to step back, probably release his never ending coddling of her chest, when she grabbed onto his belt.

“Wait,” Alistair ducked his crotch back as fast as a snake strike. “Wait, wait, wait…” With his hands plummeting off of her delectable round bits, he skittered even further away. Those palms that’d been wrapped around two perfect peaches were now trying to hide away the bulge he should have known would get in the way. It had a habit of doing that.

It took a moment for Talia to blink away the stars in her eyes, her head swiveling up to him. “What’s the matter? We’re alone.” She reached for his arm, but Alistair dodged, his brain pumping deadly acid through his soul. Danger danger. Look at what you did!

“Is something,” Talia gulped and he heard the worst sound in the world — tears clinging to her eyes. With a sniffle she forced out, “Wrong?”

“Yes,” Alistair mumbled, then he shook his head, “No. I mean, not with you. You’re…you’re so very you. Which is a good thing. Really. It’s…I should go. Yep. That’s all on me. Not you. Me, really. Going to go now.” His body stumbled through the woods sending his ass bouncing against tree trunks. The pain didn’t register because his brain could only accept the agony rising in her face.

Stupid. Alistair spun on his feet and dashed for his tent. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ He wanted to whack himself in the head a few times, but as he approached the fire, that damn witch cast her piss-yellow eyes his way.

Damn it. She didn’t know he just made a colossal fool out of himself, did she? Was she being her usual sneaky witch self? Spying on him stumbling about like the moron she knew him to be? Or did she use her magic to just…know things? Things no one should know!

“Idiot —” Morrigan began, but Alistair was in no mood. All but running so fast he could flatten it, Alistair leapt into his tent and tried to seal the door shut.

_What did you do?_

_Why did you do that?_

Pretty girl, who really wanted to…to remove her clothing and then do the thing people do without that in the way. You’re supposed to want that.

Maker’s breath.

Alistair collapsed to his knees, banging his head into the ground.

He did want it. Dreamed of it. Thought about it so much it was a wonder he could walk straight. But…damn, damn, damn it all!

This was supposed to be easy. Bees did it, birds did it, Zevran practically crowed about it every second he was awake. But of course, it should come as no surprise that the colossal fool of a Warden could muck it all up. Be a man, already. _Just ignore that quaking fear in the pit of your stomach you’re pretty sure is not remnants of the bean dinner._

What kind of coward is afraid of… _it_?

Alistair scraped at his cheeks, leaving lines of white flesh in his wake. “This coward,” he muttered, when he spotted a shadow arriving outside his tent. It was shapely and short, so probably not Sten’s. Holding his breath, he groaned when he heard what he knew was coming.

“Alistair?” Talia asked, his name warbling from the hurt in her voice. “Can, uh, can we talk?”

Scraping himself a few more times as if leaving small red welts down his face would repel her, he sighed, “Sure. Why not? Couldn’t get much worse.” He tried to whisper that last part to himself, but as Talia’s head prodded through the tent gap he gulped from the sting in her eyes. She heard it.

“You, um,” she twisted to make certain the tent was closed before taking a knee to avoid the low ceiling. Though, she came in such a tiny package she could probably stand up without worrying. It seemed more to meet Alistair eye to eye, who was trying to hide his shameful gaze anywhere possible.

Damn. Should have put that old templar helmet on. That’d have obscured both his face and the burning pit that had been his cheeks.

“It seemed as if…” Talia worried her poor thighs, the leather crackling from such an abuse. “I thought things were going well, until…” Pinching her eyes tight, she spat out, “Did I do something wrong?”

He shouldn’t have but a stupid laugh broke from his throat. She didn’t do anything wrong. She couldn’t do anything wrong. She was perfect. It was that cursed fool who couldn’t stop following her around, stealing glances from across the road, dreaming of her.

Aware that he’d set off on the wrong foot, Alistair tried to reposition and start again. “It isn’t you, it’s…me. Really. I swear. Cross my crossed thing. Legs?” That sounded more accurate given the situation. Pulling in a deep breath that stung of ash, Alistair confessed the truth, “I’ve never done that…with anyone.”

That surprised her, Talia’s face crinkling as she turned to him, “Never done what? Run out on someone?”

“No, no,” Alistair shook his head, clinging to anything other than the truth, “if I’m overwhelmed, or forgot to put on pants, or am staring down an entire salivating horde of darkspawn while armed only with a fork I’ll happily turn tail and run. It’s more…” That you’re stalling. She was gonna laugh. No, worse. She’d laugh, then tell everyone so they could all laugh.

Laughs all around.

“I’m, um,” he flexed his face, trying to crinkle his honker of a nose so deep inward it’d vanish, “inexperienced with women.”

“Inex…?” Talia began, before the shroud of confusion lifted from her eyes. Alistair girded his unused loins, but it wasn’t a braying laugh she bathed him in. “Really?” gasped from her lips.

“Uh,” his useless hands lifted, his shoulders shrugged, his head bobbed like a boat on the waves, “yeah. Really.”

“I just…” Her diamond sharp eyes that he’d catch flickering over his body took their time. As they rounded about his churning gut and down to his aching thighs, she said, “I can’t believe it.”

Alistair snickered, “Why not? I mean, you know me… That Alistair, always finding himself covered in mud and wondering how he got stuck up that tree in the first place. That’s, uh…” Not helping.

“But you’re…” she expanded her hands out as if whatever Talia considered obvious would appear between them. “Never? Not even once?”

Maker’s breath, why couldn’t this have gone, “I’m a virgin?” “You’re serious? That’s pathetic, leave me alone.” Okay, he didn’t really want it to take that route, but it’d be far less humiliating than having a girl wonder what his problem was.

What was his problem?

Digging into the back of his neck with both hands, Alistair craned his head up to the ripped canvas roof. “There weren’t a lot of opportunities. Abbies aren’t known for their rollicking orgies, not unless you get into the wine making ones. It’s…”

“So,” her soft hand reached out between them and cupped his elbow. It was yet hanging freely in the air, Alistair unable to release himself or look down. No doubt his entire throat was ruby red from the body-sized blush. “It’s a matter of you not having the opportunity?”

“Yes,” he spat out fast, before gulping. _You just had the opportunity before you and ran from it, moron._ “Maybe. No? I only, I was raised more…traditionally.”

“Nothing until marriage?”

“Not that traditionally,” Alistair spat out so fast it brought a flicker of a smile to her lips. His tugged in response, wanting so badly to yank this conversation back to the land of irreverence. But no, he needed to tell her. To explain…once he figured out his reticence for himself.

Closing his eyes, he let his head slump forward, both hands plummeting into his lap. The truth, the real rotten truth buried so deep inside he forgot it even existed was that he was scared. Terrified that he’d, well, be himself. Somehow fail so spectacularly that not only would Talia run from his affections, she’d banish him from the Wardens, from Ferelden. Maybe Thedas itself.

It was like running out into the middle of an Orlesian dance where he didn’t know any of the steps, but if he botched a one it’d be off with his head. Not only did he not know that dance, he had no concept of dancing in general and someone knotted his laces together for good measure. Stupid.

He should have just gotten it over with before. There were ladies of purchased affection who’d cozy up to both Templars and Wardens. But no, while his fellows at arms were happy to fork over a few coins for a roll, Alistair abstained. He thought he wanted to be…to care for her, to feel safe enough he could be himself with her. All that did was leave him as unknowledgeable as before, and likely to break his own heart from his stupidity.

“It’s…pathetic.” His brain stumbled for a joke, any in particular didn’t matter how bad it was, while his heart thudded to a crawl. “Like finding a grown man who can’t use a spoon. And I don’t know how anyone puts up with Oghren in bed or at a table.”

“Ali…” From the darkness, her hands scooped around his. They were so tiny in comparison. He’d laughed that she had to use daggers because she couldn’t hold a sword in her small grip. Now, as they swaddled the back of his useless hands, she looked the giant.

Slowly, she weaved her calloused fingers through his, locking them together in an embrace. “I don’t think it’s pathetic.”

“You don’t?”

“Do you judge me for having already been with others before?” Her voice wavered in the air, fading to almost nothing before reaching the end of her question. They hadn’t talked about it, he hadn’t thought about it.

He hadn’t cared.

“No.” Alistair shook his head bringing a grateful smile to her lips.

“Then I afford you the same,” she laughed, her soft palm cupping his cheek. It felt cool against his shameful blush, calming the burn. With a gulp, he turned in her grip, his lips brushing against her comforting skin.

“I’m glad you told me,” Talia whispered, “because there’s no chance I would have ever guessed.”

“Really?” he scoffed back, forever confused by her thoughts.

“You should check a looking glass some time,” her eyes darted down his chest, which she’d seen stripped clean of all armor on occasion. Usually, as he was peeling out from the washing lake to his tent because there was a kindly nest of hornets who needed to use the place next.

Talia drew her lip in between her teeth and bit down, her eyes burning even by the lowlight. “I like you, Alistair. And I don’t mind waiting until you’re ready.”

Maker’s breath, he wanted her.

_No, no, you still know about this as much as jamming a stick into a hole. The flutters in your gut, and the sweat building up on your forehead tell a different tale._

“I like you too, Tal.” He scooted forward on his knees, his hands swooping around the small of her back. Catching her lips in a kiss, the wasp’s nest in his gut transformed into pretty butterflies. Each one flitted up to his heart and perched there, radiating a satiety he didn’t think he’d ever know.

With his nose burrowing into her cheek, he spoke with his lips glancing against the side of hers, “Even if I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t be silly,” she playfully swatted at him, a laugh filling her worn face, “you do too, you goof.”

Bundling up both her hands in his, Alistair pressed quick kisses to both sets of knuckles, then one for each paired up fingertip. “This goof of yours should probably get some sleep. Big day tomorrow of stabbing, bashing, kicking. Thought I might change it up a bit with a dash disemboweling. You know, to entertain the cheap seats.”

Her rich smile soothed the last of his aches, Talia pulling her hands free as she moved towards the tent door, “All right. I’ll let you sleep, disemboweler.” Pausing before her exit, in a breathy voice she asked, “You will tell me when you’re ready?”

Nodding, Alistair raised a finger to his chest, “Cross my heart.”

“Good night, Alistair.”

The tent flap fluttered shut at her loss, Alistair pressing his fingers that smelled of her to his lips. “Sweet dreams,” his eyes swung over to his wadded up bedroll, “because I can guarantee you’re going to be in mine.”


	2. Let's Do This

This was it.

Alistair moved to smash his useless sausages for fingers together, as if a clap would prove him to be valuable, but in his state he missed completely. One hand sailed through the air while the other clanged against the metal bit strapped to his cuirass. Its call rang out over the campsite, beckoning everyone to look over at the man who went from bouncing nervously on his toes to breaking out in a rash.

Gulping and waving that errant hand which was probably going to bruise tomorrow, Alistair tried to ignore the concerned looks from Leliana and Wynne, the snake glare from the witch, and a…disturbingly smug one out of the elf. What did he know?

“Ali…”

Forgetting Zevran instantly, Alistair turned to the reason he could feel a river of sweat sliding down his back. With a smile forming from his lips down to his toes, he turned to the person he really wanted and feared to speak with.

It’d been forever since they last saw each other. Three days to be precise, Talia saying that she’d need Sten in their trek through the forest. Something about requiring someone really tall so they didn’t get lost. And also that Alistair needed to rest a minor stab wound from a genlock. He’d thought it a nice break…for all of about thirty minutes until his heart lodged in his throat and refused to get down.

What if she was injured? What if she was distracted and didn’t feel darkspawn creeping up on them? What if…?

The fretting was all for naught, Talia and the others rolling back into camp by a late afternoon sun little worse for the wear. Okay, Morrigan looked as if she got into a fight with a bear, but that seemed to be her preferred attire style. And, Alistair would only feel sorry for the bear. The moment his eyes locked upon Talia’s return, he shook away every damn fear that’d been clogging his tongue and vowed to march over to her.

It only took him an hour of the others busying themselves for dinner to get as close as banging his knuckles into his belt buckle.

Talia had her hair all bunched up at the top of her head in one of those round things girls do. Maker, he wanted to rustle it apart and dive his fingers through her ebony locks. Instead, Alistair settled for limply digging his bruised knuckles into a hip and jutting one out in an attempt to appear collected. It was clearly not working, judging by the snickering from the assassin.

“Was there…something you wanted to tell me?” Her beguiling eyes darted across his chest before tumbling into his sight. Achingly slow, she drew the wet, pink tip of her tongue against her rosy lips, leaving Alistair even more dumbfounded than before. Which was bad since he started dumb and couldn’t get much further down.

“I missed you,” he blubbered, his foolish hand trying to cut through the gap between them. Brush up the side of her leathers, tousle in her hair, cup the nape of her neck and tug her to him for a kiss.

“It was three days,” she laughed, glancing around at their fellow companions who could hear the star-struck ex-Templar with ease. Alistair had trouble with his indoor voice. Talia took one step closer to him, her chin brushing near his sternum as she whispered, “I missed you too.”

“I want to,” fell out of his foolish lips so fast he moved to smack his forehead.

“You want to…?” Talia bounded on her toes, tucking her hands behind her back as if she feared to touch him. Or feared others watching.

Oh Maker. Alistair’s wild eyes shot to the entire set of them gathered around, listening to his bumbling, probably about to weigh in suggestions and… No. _You’re trying to get out of this._

“I’ve been thinking,” he began before scoffing, “I know, warn the fire brigade. Surely something’s about to spit flames. I mean…after everything we’ve been through, every…” Andraste’s pretty toenails, this shouldn’t be so hard!

Okay, it should be hard in the right places.

“From all of this, what we were tossed into. Having an entire blight thrust upon our heads.” Damn it, why did everything he say sound dirty? “I just wanted to say that I’m so happy that the Maker made _you_ you.”

“That’s, um…” Talia’s lips twisted up in thought before she finished, “sweet?”

“There’s more. Which, maybe I should have written down,” Alistair took one last glance around the group, praying none of them were listening in. Forget the others, forget the chantry, forget whatever foolish fears were chewing through your brain. Say it!

“I want to be with you.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, along with a soft, “Oh,” escaping her beautiful lips.

“In the tent, together. Doing the…tent things one does.” Maker’s breath, were his palms sweating? And he couldn’t stop bouncing his damn leg either. Alistair looked as if he was about to launch into a jig. Stop fidgeting, stop panicking. Stop it now!

When her hand caressed up his arm, Alistair’s body froze, his head swiveling up to meet her gaze. She’d turn him down. She’d have to after that…was it even a question?

“Are you sure?” Talia whispered, her body pressing closer to his.

The scent of the forest was almost palpable on her. Honeysuckle and juniper wafted off her knotted hair, the heat of her taut body that was straining at its full reach upended his vocal cords. Stricken fully numb, all Alistair could do was nod. He did his best to nod decisively though.

Skirting her hand into his, Talia enveloped her fingers around his and began to tug towards his tent. “Then, come on,” she smiled guiding him towards the place he slept every night. It was a good thing too because Alistair’s mind leapt off a cliff and would have taken his body with.

This was it. The thing he’d been mulling over, fretting about, fearing, then aching for for the past three weeks. Maker take him, he’d even tried to get Zevran’s advice. That got as far as the elf narrowing his eyes and saying in that flippant accent, “Are you asking how one goes about wooing someone?”

He swore to never ask anyone anything after that. Which left him at such an abysmal starting place, he was starting to question how pants worked never mind the bits inside of them and the joining there of.

Talia lifted his tent flap, still not a euphemism, and with her warmth holding him guided Alistair inside. As the door dropped behind with a thud, he heard his heartbeat bounding about like a fireball trapped in a chimney. Slowly, Talia reached her delicate fingers up to her hair, plucked a few pins out, and the ebony tumbled to her shoulders.

It was instinct that caused Alistair to reach out and catch it in his fingers. Maker’s breath, it was softer than a kitten’s belly, shinier than onyx. His fingers climbed higher, gently parting her downed hair to the tip before starting anew.

“Ali,” Talia whispered, drawing him to look up, which was when she pounced. Both arms locked around the back of his neck, her sultry lips smashing into his. He almost cried out in an exaggerated pain, when her tongue rolled around his bottom lip and tugged it between hers. Strawberries, a hoppy ale, and serenity floated on her tongue. The drumbeat in his blood surged to war as he tasted what he missed. From behind, he felt her fingers rustling through his hair, electricity charging his scalp and bringing a moan up his throat.

Breathing in deeper, he smelled something new on Talia, a sharp note he couldn’t place. Sweet but also impatient, it grabbed his groggy libido and shook it awake. His fingers fumbled for her breasts, hungry for the perfect scoops that molded to his needy palms. At the brush of a nipple, it was Alistair who moaned, and Talia popped away from their slovenly kisses.

She brushed her forehead against his and whispered, “We can take it slow.”

“I thought we were, what with me taking days to figure out how my co…undercarriage _rattles_.”

Her hand locked tighter to the back of his head, pulling him closer as she smiled, “I meant tonight.” Those sharp eyes that ensnared him from across a battlefield melted as she stared up at him, “We have all the time in Thedas.”

Alistair kissed her, his famished tongue happy to plumb her mouth and lick her lips. They fell into what he knew best, kissing across her beautiful neck, a few pecks to the half moon of skin she displayed above the collar of her armor. His hands found their way to her breasts, Talia moaning whenever he did something she liked. Seemed she was really fond of him cupping underneath, that bringing out such gasps he felt his little soldier swiping against his trousers. It wanted to get in on the action.

Oh Maker, it could.

“May I?” Talia spoke, startling Alistair from licking her collarbone. He had no idea what she wanted to do. Compose a love ballad? Borrow one of his socks? Fart? It wasn’t until his eyes darted to her hands which were placed to the front of her leathers that it kicked in.

She wanted to get naked.

Sweet Andraste did he want her naked. To touch her satiny skin and…

Gulping, Alistair nodded, his eyes filling to the brim as she quickly undid a thousand clasps he’d have panicked and gotten his hair stuck in. He was enthralled, mesmerized into being, until he caught a sliver of naked, tan flesh and instinctively turned away.

Damn it, she wanted you to see. You don’t have to…to… At the sound of her leathers flopping to the ground, Alistair swallowed deep. Okay, he wasn’t ready to watch her undress. Somehow that seemed more erotic than her simply being naked. Not that he’d ever seen her naked and, damn it, brain. Make sense!

His numb fingers bounded into the mess of armor he wore, trying to unhook all the metal bits. As each one clanged to the ground, he held his breath, somehow fearing that Talia might suddenly sober up and rush out the door. When the final landed, leaving him in nothing more than a linen undershirt, he felt her palm trace over his shoulder. It dipped lower, following the curve of the muscles. Goosebumps erupted down his arms from the whisper touch.

He wanted more, wanted to feel it on his bare skin and…

Without a second thought, Alistair yanked his shirt off his head. Slowly, he pivoted in place, growing concerned about what she’d think. _What if she didn’t…?_ Was as far as he got before his brain filled with one thought — her. Naked. Beautiful. The brown on her arms burned from weeks in the sun contrasted to the lighter olive shade of her breasts, bringing them into a tantalizing spotlight. He stared in awe at the soft, inviting curves dangling from her chest. Both nipples of a rosy tan pointed slightly downward, the image replacing whatever Alistair concocted in his fantasies.

His eyes traveled down from the breasts, not that it was easy, towards her stomach. A stark white scar broke up the tans, calling for Alistair’s fingers. That was what he touched first on her shirtless body. Not those tempting breasts, but a scar still healing from their fight. He kept trailing it downward even as his fingers bumped into the waist of her trousers.

“Well?” Talia coughed out, her beautiful brown eyes widening by the dimming light.

“You’re the most beautiful I’ve ever seen,” Alistair whispered in awe.

“Beautiful what?” she laughed, a rosy blush claiming her cheeks. Was she nervous too? Couldn’t possibly be as nervous as him. Alistair feared he might melt into an explosion…because he’d find a way to make that work.

Curling his palm to her burning cheek, her elegant black waves caressing the back of his hand, Alistair whispered, “Beautiful everything.” Never weary lips found each other, the kisses sloppy but neither caring as they tasted each other. Talia’s hand gripped onto his bicep, fingers digging into his muscle. He moved to flex it, to prove that he wasn’t a bag of jelly, when her curious tips trailed down his chest.

With a flitter, she twirled her fingers through his mop of chest hair, finding the more patchy sections fun to scrape her nails over. Alistair gasped at the attention, his leg trembling as it strained behind him. He couldn’t say if it was out of fear of the unknown or excitement of what was to come.

Ha. Come.

“Mmm,” Talia murmured, her wily lips slipping up to his ear. That wandering hand paused just below his belly button, her warm palm falling flush to his stomach. “You’re shaking.”

“I,” Alistair flinched, his head swiveling back to take stock of the cursed leg that wouldn’t cease. “I must be cold. Very cold. Shivering.”

“I see,” she nodded, her tongue making another lap of her lips. Alistair took that as an invitation and moved closer for a kiss, when her fingers slid off his bare skin and down to the proud tent pole trapped in his trousers. Sweet merciful Maker, he wanted to cry out in joy. To push his hips forward so she’d wrap more of her delicate fingers around him. Didn’t matter that there were knickers in the way, this felt…

“Let me help you warm up,” Talia purred, her fingers quickly undoing the mess of buttons he had for a fly. Two were notorious for sticking, sometimes requiring Alistair to yank the whole thing down to take a piss. Hilarity often ensued. He should warn her, help her, but he was frozen in place. All he could do was stretch his torso higher, hoping to give her all the room she could to…to…

Cool air stung his backside first, proving to Alistair that she’d gotten his pants off. He clenched those appley cheeks tight, eyes locked up, as he waited for her warm hand to cup his twig and berries. No, branch. Oak tree, really, and…something large that was also round.

When her hand landed on his shoulder, Alistair gulped in shock, nearly tumbling back on his ass. The move drew him to open his eyes into hers, Talia pursing her lips in thought, “You’re all tensed up.”

He forced out a laugh, the smile trying to assure her he was fine. The fact his leg was still shaking didn’t really give him much backup. Come on, body, get it together. _You want this, right?_

A quick glance down to his ol’ third handshake told him that yes, and it was getting rather impatient and veiny about the delay.

“Here,” Talia gripped onto his chest and slowly spun him about as if he were on wheels. When he faced away from her, his view no longer a beautiful naked woman but the tent flap, Alistair tumbled to his butt. A cramp tried to wiggle through his legs but after the shit they kept pulling he wouldn’t hear of it.

Forlorn and uncertain, Alistair tugged the last of his trousers off. The pants skittered over the mess in his tent, which he just realized he should have picked up before asking Talia to join him. Maybe put out a candle…though the likelihood of him setting his pubic hair on fire would have gone up exponentially.

As if it was all going swimmingly now. He’d made a fool of himself a hundred times over, babbled incoherently when she got naked, and hadn’t even touched her goodies yet. Slumping forward, Alistair let his legs fall into a cross. He was about to engage in full on pout mode, when warm hands soothed over his shoulders.

“You need to relax,” her alto voice hummed in his ear. Thumbs dug into the knots popping up along his shoulders, causing Alistair to moan as she tried to work the stress free. It’d take a week and a battalion of qunari walking on his back, but he was grateful she was trying.

Talia’s massage slipped lower, cupping along the higher back muscles. Taking in a deep breath, Alistair tried to obey her suggestion, when she grazed her teeth against his earlobe. Her hand slid forward, cupping his pec.

Hot breath burst into his ear, “You’ll live longer.” Sliding up, her fingers bumped against his little dot of a nipple. A fire sparked along Alistair’s spine, his body folding tighter to hers. Talia caught on quickly, her voice sensuous, “Do you like that?”

“More than I’d have…” Alistair gulped. “Here I assumed mine were only ornamental pulled out for really fancy parties or when greeting the Divine.”

The giggle behind him didn’t stall the flames churning in his veins, but it did bring a smile to his lips. She was still Talia, even while having sex. Why did he think she’d be someone else?

Legs enveloped outside of Alistair’s, naked legs. She must have removed her knickers when he was panicking. Which meant that…? Yup. He could feel a soft prickle of hair bounding into his tailbone. Hair that was hiding away her, um, secluded grotto? The thought of a woman’s muff bouncing against him nearly brought a moan to Alistair’s overworked throat, when Talia’s right hand slid up to dig into his thigh.

“How do you feel about…?” she danced her finger tips like waltzers skipping up his leg, down the inner thigh, and then… “This?”

Bare skin, warm as a summer day and softer than silk curled around his dick. She started at the base, guiding his little friend further out for attention, while Alistair’s vision exploded. “Th-th-that’s…” He tried to assure her how wonderful it felt, perhaps with hand embossed stationery, when her pulsing grip slipped up to the head.

“Hm,” she whispered, her palm swooping over the knob in thought, “I’ve never been with anyone intact before.”

“Oh?” Alistair sputtered, trying to find anything he could cling to. His mouth was drying out fast, his toes clenching in the dirt, and all she did was give him a little tug. How was he supposed to go for… Maker, he didn’t even know how long one was meant to last.

“Elves tend to…never mind.” Despite her lack of one-on-one time with the foreskin prior, she picked it up quick. Closing her fist tight above him, as she drew it down over his dick she’d open just enough to provide the perfect fit. As if his crown was made for her palm.

Talia scooted closer, her hand increasing in speed and sending Alistair careening for the cliff. Her own breath broke into a spattering pant, allowing him to feel her stiff nipples bounding against his back. The thought made him even stiffer, causing all sense to flee his brain. Sparks flickered across his vision, his thighs clenching tighter and tighter as he tried to hang on.

In his own hands, he’d have popped off and rolled over to sleep by now. In hers, he didn’t want it to end. To have her determination, her passion, her compassion jacking him off was…it was…

Alistair spun so fast in place, he nearly bashed his jaw into her teeth. Talia reared back, her rogue instincts protecting her lip from being smacked, but she stared up at him in confusion. “I…I want to do that to you. The massage and stuff part.”

She smiled and nodded, “Okay.” Rolling her mass of hair into one long twist and piling it over her shoulder, Talia turned away from the blubbering man. Without her watching, he tried to tamp down the explosion that was a mere centimeter from hitting the gaatlock barrel. It took quite a bit of squeezing to redirect the blood and even then, he hadn’t seen his dick that excited to be in this world since he was fifteen.

Think unsexy thoughts.

Alistair repeated the mantra to himself as he brushed his fingers over a beautiful woman’s hair and prepared to massage her naked back. Yup. So unsexy there. Nothing to get excited about whatso—

A moan erupted from Talia when he dug into the first knot. At the second, she threw her head back until it bounded against his chest. He’d remained on his knees, uncertain if folding around her would help anything with his problem. Staring down at her glistening skin, her hooded eyes closed in rapture, succulent lips parted in ecstasy, and both her nipples ready for action, Alistair lost every stupid concern in his head.

He dipped to her, his mouth pressing a kiss upside down to her fluttering lips. As she pulsed her top lip against his bit of a soul patch, their tongues glancing against one another, he drew his hands forward and cupped her breasts. Maker, this was the softest thing in Thedas. Each gentle knead of his pads brought a silly giggle to him. He was touching her breasts, her naked breasts. And they were more amazing than anything he could have dreamed of.

Talia grazed a hand through his scruff, tugging him deeper into the kiss, when he felt her other palm brush against the back of his hand. He was about to pull away from her breast, but she guided him from the curve of giving flesh to the nipple.

“Like this,” she instructed, teaching him how to thrum his fingers over them. Nodding to try and show he understood, Alistair followed her movement, the budded nipple bending as he lightly tapped into it. A hum reverberated up Talia’s throat, her tongue stilling from their kisses.

Hungry to hear more satisfying sounds, Alistair threaded his fingers around both nipples. Each light knock from his thick hands caused her to sway. A thought struck him, and curious what she’d think, Alistair cuffed his first and middle finger between her nipple and rotated them in a circle.

“Oh Maker,” Talia gasped.

“Bad?”he sputtered, prepared to scamper off of her.

“No. Good. So damn good. Don’t you stop.”

Pleased with himself, Alistair went full in, his lips pressing kisses to her throat that was warbling with gulps and gasps. His fingers were the nimblest they’d ever been, drawing her taut nips out then sliding back to curl around all of her breasts.

Talia’s hand rustled through his hair, her head thrust back as she mumbled, “Sweet blood of the Maker,” before chewing on her lip. She kept rising on her haunches, swaying herself back and forth as if…

Like the siren song it was, Alistair’s eyes broke from the moaning woman’s ecstatic smile straight down those bounding hills to her mysterious cavern of wonders. A black forest guarded the entrance, obscuring his view, but he needed to know more. His fingers — rapscallions that they were — smoothed down Talia’s stomach. They curved with the little pooch from her sit, dipped into her bellybutton which caused her to laugh, and landed right on the edge of the ebony fluff.

The certainty in his veins evaporated, leaving Alistair circling through the top of her pubic hair like a knight riding before the castle gates. Oh, he wanted in there, beyond measure, but he wasn’t certain he knew the trick to slipping inside. Was there a password? If so, it was probably swordfish.

Her squirming ceased as Talia realized he wasn’t thrumming her breasts to a slow dance. Reaching across her hips, she enveloped her small hand above his. At first, she cupped it in her palm, Alistair concerned she’d pull him away because he picked the wrong move, when Talia slid her thighs open wider.

Guiding his hand as if she was trying to summon a spirit, Alistair gulped at the soft curlies caressing his fingers. Only two tips were on point, the most experienced and daring who stood above the precipice to the abyss. What was down through that darkness? Who knew? Gold? Dragons? A gold dragon?

Alistair was about to suggest such a thing, but Talia cut him off. Curling her thumb and pinkie around his palm, she drew the tip of his finger against the reason for being. Warm folds invited him in for a cuppa, maybe a little looksee. Giddy, Alistair skirted his fingers around the tender skin, his chest bounding into Talia’s back as she squirmed in place.

While the warmth and satiny touch drew him in, it was when she dipped his finger deep into herself that Alistair lost control. Wet heat tugged him further and further inside, his tips bounding into each cushioned pocket which caused Talia to groan. This was it. The big secret girls kept hidden between their legs.

Maker, no wonder. It was exhilarating, not only watching her slip further into the throes of pleasure but to feel it clenching back against him. She was both thrusting his fingers deeper in while her whole _wet frock_ was trying to drag him in too. And that could be his cock in there.

Andraste’s blood. He buried his face into her shoulder, trying to shake off the thought, but the anticipation wouldn’t leave him. Nor did the glean of sweat rising off of Talia’s sculpted shoulder help distract him. Mouthing all the blasphemes he could think of against her perfumed skin, Alistair tried to ground himself. But in doing that, his teeth scraped and nibbled up her shoulder and down her back.

That sent off Talia’s moaning, her breath so hitched it wasn’t breaking wild without a hacksaw. She left Alistair in charge of thrumming her inner workings, but wrapped her slick fingers around his thumb. Uncertain where she wanted it, he waited until Talia plopped it upon a secret pea hidden within.

Absently, Alistair swiped his smooth thumb against it, not expecting much from such a tiny node. It nearly sent him tumbling on his ass when Talia threw her entire head back and cried incoherently. Okay, that was a good button to remember. Very important. Touch that little pea. He tried to find a rhythm, swishing his thumb back and forth over the node that he’d swear was getting bigger.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she panted, trying to swallow in order to get a word out. “Like that. Please, dear Maker, like that!”

With all that envious dexterity in her body, she rose up on her haunches and began to thrust herself onto Alistair’s fingers. It was beautiful to watch, her naked skin flushed with exertion, her breasts bounding from the force. By the void, he wanted it to last forever. He just made one minor miscalculation.

Somehow, between Talia’s throes of passion and Alistair having to shift around to keep his fingers in place, that sneaky ol’ trouser snake found its way right against her bountiful backside. And with every thrust of her body onto him, she was riling it up more.

Think about darkspawn. That rotten meat smell on their breath. A rancid heat that’d wipe over his face along with a pile of slobber. Warmth. Slicked up heat. Not helping!

Hats. The chantry. A withered old Mother glaring down at his penis and clucking.

“Fuck, Maker, yes!” Talia shouted, ripping away whatever delusion of control Alistair had. He was thrown back into the truth — a gorgeous naked woman was riding him, pleasure seeping from every pore on her perfect skin as she cried out for him.

There was no stopping it now.

Hips swinging forward twice, his engorged and enraged cock slicked against her warm back. It was Talia that thrust down, catching the crown perfectly and setting off the cascade inside him. It burned hotter than the sun, erupting from his loins out to his toes and up his chest. By the time it reached his brain, leaving him crying incoherently, Alistair glanced down at the sticky mess building up on her back.

Oh Maker. He grimaced, trying to catch the rest in his hand to stymie both the embarrassment and his cum. It seemed nothing could stop either, his entire chest bright red while he had to blow one of the greatest loads of his life onto her spine.

“I’m sorry,” Alistair mumbled, “I’m sorry, I’m…” He couldn’t think of an excuse, so he just kept repeating it over and over. Beyond ashamed, his eyes found the floor and locked in place.

The heaving breaths slowed from Talia and she turned in place. No doubt one hand was trying to wipe away his mess, while she weighed her options. He did warn her before. Sort of. Why did it have to be her he tried with first? Why wasn’t he already experienced so…?

“Hey,” warm palms slid up his scruff, trying to lift Alistair’s heavy head. His neck gave in to her attempt, but his eyes remained downcast. Talia pulled him closer, his forehead not just brushing but nearly beaning against hers. From the edge of his eyes, he caught her lips now cherry red and still whiffling to catch a breath.

She swallowed once more, seeming to have trouble, when she brushed both of her thumbs up under his cheekbones. “Ali,” she whispered.

“Sorry for, uh, cutting the festivities short,” he gulped, his toes curling inward.

“I told you,” her voice breathed against his reddened cheeks. Hooking her fingers under his jawline, she finally lifted him up so high he met her eyes. A twinkle sparkled inside those bottomless depths. Leaning closer, she whispered, “we have all night.”

“Really?” Alistair gasped, trying to search her face for a lie.

A smirk rose on those lips he could kiss a million times. Talia straddled up higher on her haunches and snagged her hands around Alistair’s chest. Before he could even move to return the hug, she suddenly dug her knee into the ground. With all the force in her lithe body, she spun the two of them around. Her back landed on the ground while he, and his still dripping cock, ended up above her.

Twisting her head up, the smile not dimming for a moment, Talia parted her fingers down his chest, “Have I ever told you that I prefer seconds?” She drew her foot higher, the toes almost tickling his inner thigh. With a little fanfare flicker, she nudged into his balls, sending Alistair gasping. It may not take her that long to wait.

Maker, she was beautiful and writhing under him, caressing him, begging for him. Balancing on one hand, he cupped her breast and started to wind his fingers down her gleaming skin. There was no hesitation as he reached her forest of intrigue. After dipping his finger into her pulsing gap, Talia greedily opened her legs wider.

“Have I ever told you that I really love…” Alistair circled around those juicy lips once more before pausing at the top. “Peas,” he laughed.

Talia’s face pinched up in confusion, but not for long as he began to thrum against her magical pea. She arched her back higher into the air, begging for him to thrust his fingers inside of her. Happy to oblige, Alistair did as ordered, free to delight in the pleasure wracking her body. One of her legs lifted higher until it wrapped around his waist, Talia trying to grind against him. She didn’t care that his cock took a little nap after its first show, and neither did he. No, Alistair was far too enthralled with testing every twist and turn of his fingers, every touch to her glistening skin, every pant and gasp from the woman he loved, to even notice.

“Ah-h-h,” her mouth parted, tongue dropping low as the breaths pinged out like crossbow bolts. Alistair watched as her eyes seemed to roll into the back of her skull, her head twisting under her as she heaved her lower half higher. A tremor ran up her body, Talia’s limbs locking in tight as she moaned.

Oh Maker, he didn’t kill her, did he?

Worried, he froze in his finger ballet only to feel Talia pulsing against him. “What…?” Alistair gulped, partially praying that she’d move or say something. Blessed Andraste, how could he explain that injury to Wynne? “What was that?” he mumbled out, wincing at what was probably the obvious.

“Hm?” Talia seemed lost, a limp hand brushing over her sweat-soaked hair. A frill of ebony clung to her forehead as she staggered back on her elbows to stare up at him. Blinking slowly, her tongue rolling through her mouth, she smiled wide. “That was my turn.”

“Your turn?” Alistair scowled, trying to remember if there were any rules to this game. He glared at his arm, the wrist in particular mentioning how it was tired of supporting his weight, when he caught Talia’s wicked grin. “Oh! You’re…” he coughed out, chuckling to himself.

“I didn’t know that girls, I mean that that was how it went for…them. You?”

Her warm snicker wiped away his clinging concern as she guided her hands up his slick back and pulled him on top of her. “It is,” Talia lavished him in kisses while her nails scratched along his spine, “for me.”

“Excellent to know. Adding it to the…” Alistair began, when she once again hooked both her arms and legs around his torso in order to flip him over. He helped a bit better this time, sliding onto his back while the beautiful and satisfied woman stood on her knees above him. With graceful moves, she drew both her hands back over her forehead through her hair, trying to knot it out of the way.

While he could happily watch her do the most mundane of tasks, it was the bouncing breasts that beckoned to the man trapped between her thighs. Both hands, ecstatic to be free, enveloped hers accruements. Still just as firm and cushiony as he remembered all of whenever this started. Five hours ago? Alistair pushed both breasts up higher, causing Talia to tip her head back in a laugh.

As she turned back to him, her palms kneading against his chest, she asked, “Enjoying yourself?”

“Mm-hm,” he nodded, as if it wasn’t obvious.

She slid further down his body until a charge bounded through his veins. A sly smile reverberated over Talia’s smile as she purred, “Feels like someone’s ready for the main event.”

“I…” Alistair swallowed, trying to keep his soul jammed inside his body. At the moment it was highly focused on his whole fruitful loin area, every sway of her boundless backside shaking him to the core.

This was it. Cast off the last illusions of purity and dive right in. He’d been afraid that she’d laugh at him. Foolish, she only laughed with him. That he’d fumble and hurt her, but Talia writhed around in such pleasure from his touch he couldn’t contain himself. One more hurdle to get to the fabled finish line.

Licking his scorched lips, Alistair smiled while his eyes burned into hers, “More than anything.”

Talia bent down, her hair falling in curtains around their faces as she kissed him. Alistair raised his chin to try and kiss her back, but she was already on the move. Those wily fingers circled around his cock, Alistair bracing himself for more of before, but when she slid lower and opened her legs, his vision blanked.

Toes digging into the mottled dirt, as Talia flanked his sword at every turn, he happily thrusted deeper into her trap. Maker, what a trap it was. Warm, soft, sweet, it beckoned his cock home, enveloping him into its embrace. He could lay there forever, staring into his love’s eyes as she accepted him in a way no one ever had.

“Are you chanting?” Talia laughed, her chin pivoted quizzically.

Alistair clacked his jaws and tried to replay back what his tongue had been up to. “Was I?” he admitted.

“Sounded like, ‘Yes, please, yes, now,’” she was relentless, her fingers pawing at his chest hair and then nibbling around his nipples.

“Big moment,” Alistair gulped, “want to remember it forever.”

Her hot tongue lapped around her lips, those beguiling eyes shifting to the ceiling. “The best part’s yet to…” Talia raised up on her thighs, Alistair feeling himself sucker out of her. With a chuckle, she plunged him back in, her words finishing with, “come.”

 _Sweet blood of Andraste!_ He thought her hand was a miracle, this was…he had no comparison. Alistair’s fingers flexed against her breasts, his body slipping further from his control. “What do I do?” he gasped, his heels flailing in the dirt while Talia began to moan.

“Whatever feels good,” was her answer.

Whatever felt good? It all did. From the tips of his rusty hair down to his chipped toenails, his body was an inferno and she fed the flames. What felt good, what he wanted was…

His hands fell from her breasts to grip onto her flush hips. With a groan, Alistair thrust himself deeper in while pulling Talia lower. “Maker’s balls!” one of them groaned, maybe both. He couldn’t tell as her panting sped up along with his thrusting.

One more. One more. Just one more second!

His danglers all but slammed up into his crotch, kicking off a chain reaction that sent Alistair flopping to the ground. When his ass hit, he somehow thrust himself further into Talia, inviting her to give his crown one good squeeze. Every hair on his body rose, the pleasure overload screaming up to his brain. It knocked about, bringing both a gasp of a shock and a chuckle from his lips.

Exhausted more than he’d ever been in his life, Alistair flopped back like a jellyfish. It seemed fitting, that orgasm melted his bones. He was certain. No way he survived that one intact. Something had to pay for that kind of body ransacking pleasure. Worth it, though.

Talia slid off of him, the last few dribbles of his goo plopping onto his stomach. It didn’t matter. He certainly wasn’t going to leap up and clean it off. For starters, he was without bones. Also, there was a beautiful, perfect, body-breaking woman sliding in beside him. She curled up on her side, and by a true miracle of the Maker, Alistair was able to cup her hip.

As he heaved himself up onto his side to stare into her gorgeous eyes, Talia leaned forward and pecked a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Well? Was it worth the wait?”

Maker’s sake. Alistair chuckled at how he’d been such a fool before. To put it off so long in the hopes that… He sobered up, one hand drawing over her downed hair so he could stare at her face before clasping to her back to pull her flush, heart to heart. It had to be her. It couldn’t have been anyone else. No one would have taken her time, guided him, given him the resolve to see it through to the end.

“It was beyond anything I could have dreamed. Which I mean in a good way, not a ‘Ah everyone’s belching fire and has eight eyes now’ type of dream.”

Her sweet laugh enveloped him. Like a protection spell, Alistair knew as long as he had that at his side nothing could hurt him. Talia’s eyes drifted around his face, her warm, spent body cuddling tighter to him.

From the depths of their conjoined limbs, her fingers rose to cup his chin as she whispered, “Maybe it’s too soon, but…I love you.”

“Have I not mentioned it before?” Alistair laughed, “Because I love you, adore you, would worship you if the chantry allowed it and I had any sculpting skills. An epic statue of you right over there would really liven the campsite up.”

“To think, if not for the blight,” she circled her fingers down his chest, fluffing the hair caught between his folded pecs, “we never would have met. If I hadn’t left with that strange human I’d… Who knows where I’d be.”

Alistair huddled her tighter to his chest, needing to feel her warm, alive breath on his skin. There was so much riding on their success, and the likelihood of either of them surviving — never mind both — seemed impossible. Still… She was there, at the right time, in the right place, picking him up, saving him from his own despair. Guiding him. If not for her, what would he be?

Brushing his nose against the top of her hair, breathing in her woodsy scent, Alistair swore to both Talia and the Maker, “It had to be you.”


End file.
